


domestic murder girlfriends

by iwouldcurseworldsforyou



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, there's smut in the second part idk how that happened, this is mostly meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8265070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwouldcurseworldsforyou/pseuds/iwouldcurseworldsforyou
Summary: the shoot meta/fic from shaw's pov that nobody asked for!





	1. a swiss army person

shaw had never had a favorite color. she never understood the point. what made someone choose red over green over yellow? what it some innate spark of emotion? a positive association? a memory?  
  
stupid, is what it was.  
  
it's not that she never organized things in her mind. but she preferred things for logical reasons, not dumb feelings. her prized nano over johns boring glock 22. mustard over mayo because she actually possessed taste buds. you know, shit that actually made sense.  
  
she didn't understand best friends either. people, on a very basic level, were stupid. and annoying as hell. and god, their _emotions_ made them even more stupid and annoying. people were like tools, and once you were done you put them back where you found them (usually) and you left them alone.  
  
who the hell walks around with a wrench in their back pocket? dumb people, that's who. people had their place: far away from shaw.  
  
she supposed she had preferences for people, if not favorites, whether she was on the job or in her bed. it made sense; some tools were better for some jobs than others. finch when she needed an extra pair of eyes, fusco when she wanted to grab a beer and the game after a stake out, john when she didn't feel like talking, bear when she had extra energy to run around, and root when she needed someone to watch her back.  
  
they made a pretty good team, after all. it was an objective fact. even skynet said so. diagrams and graphs and all that boring shit.

(it was color coded, even)  
  
in her bed it was simple. men when she was in a hurry and wanted something quick and easy. strong but never more so than her. clean cut. attractive but forgettable. women when she wanted to slow down and take her time. always beautiful, often taller than her, and with wicked smiles and sharp, intelligent eyes. when she wanted to reward herself, she'd slip into a darker nightclub. sip expensive liquor and watch a whip crack onto eager skin.  
  
the nightclub was just for thinking though, not action. when she was tipsy, she allowed her mind to float. to wonder if she'd ever find a tool, no, a /person/ she trust enough to share that with. maybe even, she considered later at home, bottle in hand, a person to both trust in _and_ outside her bedroom.  
  
she snorted inelegantly. "a fucking. swiss army knife person." a person that was everything. could be everything and more. someone she could take anywhere and always feel safe.  
  
but that was a dream. a drunken fantasy. it didn't mean anything and it sure a fuck wasn't real.  
  
and when root greeted her with a confused "she said you would need this?" the next morning and dropped a brand new 300 dollar swiss army knife (made with real walnut) in her hands, shaw decided to take the hint.  
  
root was...useful, she reasoned. she could just as quickly hack a person as she could a computer. and shaw had never seen a vehicle or weapon root couldn't operate with competence and a hint of manic glee. it made sense, logically, of course, that shaw would want to be around her more.  
  
for missions. just to watch her back. shaw could put up with a lot of innuendos if the mission was completed well and she got to live another day. if shaw brought her overpriced coffee from Starbucks, it was because it made root, and therefore the mission, function more smoothly. altruism was dumb. shaw did things that made her feel good, and that made her life easier. and she wasn't going to apologize for that.  
  
but did root have to be so good at everything? she remembered to bring shaw's fingerless gloves to a stakeout over thanksgiving. always had shaw's six whether rain, sleet, snow, or fucking being underwater. she learned to speak farsi ("it was for a relevant number in--" "whatever, root"). and when they inevitably fell in bed together she was good (incredible) at that too.  
  
which would be annoying as hell if she couldn't feel the growing sense of dread licking at her heels. if she preferred root over other people, if she preferred root over _anything_...she wasn't sure if she was ready for that, ready to think about what that could mean.  
  
because if root was different from anyone else, and shaw preferred her, what would happen if she lost her? root couldn't be replaced now, she was special. unique. if root was gone, shaw would be incomplete. functional, yes, but not at her best. inefficient. compensating for the hole root would leave in her absence. the very thought made shaw restless and uncomfortable.  
  
shaw didn't like it.  
  
and she couldn't fix it.  
  
she couldn't push root away. it made roots smile fracture which made shaw's stomach turn unpleasantly. when she left root behind to chase after an irrelevant number with john, she came back with two cracked ribs, the first serious injury she had sustained in almost eight months. while root stared at her with fake brightness while she wrapped shaw's torso, she found that her throat was more tight than her chest, aching not with pain but with words unspoken.  
  
so shaw kept her close again and root flourished once more.


	2. self care and bangs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i dont know how this happened but they're gonna bang now okay?

sometimes having a girlfriend who isn't 100% connected to her own body was a pain in the ass. not that shaw cared whether root was mentally steering her body all the time, that was between root and the machine to quibble over. it was the lack of care, the casual disrespect she treated herself with on a daily basis.  
  
root had clearly never heard of self care, and it was really starting to piss shaw off. or worry her, which resulted in her feeling pissed off. most negative emotions led back to anger.  
  
and it was so difficult to watch, shaw who loves and respects her body. she'd been a doctor and then a marine, and was always careful to be in peak condition. when you're alone and your equipment breaks or is stolen, the only thing you have to rely on is your own two hands. hell, it had been her job to keep others healthy and well. she'd poured good money into medical school to learn how to do it properly.  
  
and there root was, waltzing around like she hadn't forgotten to eat or sleep in the past two day. and then acting confused when her legs gave out mid unfortunate dance step.  
  
"sameen?"  
  
"yeah babe?"  
  
"i can't move my legs."  
  
and shaw would sigh and angrily mash at her phone screen until the machine helpfully alerted her that root's last meal was over 48 hours ago. "sure, tell me _now_." shaw hissed as she reached into their shared refrigerator for one of root's weird homemade protein shakes.  
  
root has issues with food too. consistencies and textures were important to her. she didn't eat most meats and anything with tiny seeds or sprouts was outlawed. shaw had a completely separate "root free" drawer full of broccoli and strawberries that she both loved and hated to keep to herself. she had yet to find a way to strain out all the seeds of a blended strawberry without making a huge mess out of the kitchen, because root still loved the flavor even if she couldn't deal with the actual fruit itself.  
  
(no one would ever say sameen shaw wasn't dedicated to her girlfriend's needs.)  
  
oatmeal would work on most days, even if root insisted on the gross instant flavored packets instead of real steel cut oats. "like god intended" shaw grumbled, trying to sneak a little peanut butter into root's portion because breakfast was the most important meal of the day and root looked a little sleepy this morning and needed an extra boost. she was not going to let root run on her usual half coffee half cream three sugars mixture. it was both an insult to the fresh beans shaw ground every morning and to the human body.  
  
eggs were okay as long as root didn't smell them cooking, and shaw had enough prepacked almond/cashew/chocolate snack packs to last root a lifetime. she set a timer every four hours to go off, and if root was home at the time shaw would usually toss one at her head as a gentle reminder to eat. sometimes if root was in the passenger seat, shaw had to set the bag in root's hand to get her body the message.  
  
it was almost funny, as much as root was a control freak in the bedroom, she was more than content to let shaw make most of the decisions regarding her physical health. it felt nice, in a way. the trust that root gave her without even having to ask. shaw just wished root cared a little more about herself, not because shaw was resentful, but because she was pretty sure root hated her own physical being. most of her open declarations of self loathing had been cut down after months of shaw worshiping her body every chance she got. but shaw knew root's thoughts still lingered. root was stubborn like that.  
  
late one night, they found themselves sweating and tangled together between the sheets. just another typical wednesday night. root looked proud and eager underneath shaw, somehow managing to look completely in control despite shaw pressing her deep into the mattress, leaving a bright trail of kisses and bite marks that would sting for days to come.  
  
when it came to shaw, root was always exactly where she wanted to be.  
  
shaw was nearly overwhelmed. it was hard to think with all the smells and heat and tastes. there was so much of root she wanted to worship and love and explore but she didn't know what root wanted. she need to know, she needed to make it good for her, she needed--  
  
root grasped one of shaw's frantically roaming hands and pressed a kiss to her palm before moving it to her throat. "three fingers, i think. i want to feel it."  
  
shaw nearly whimpered before complying. it was so rare to be able to touch root in that way, usually penetration was too foreign or overwhelming, so shaw never asked and only did when explicitly told to do so.  
  
"and sweetie?" root drawled, interrupting shaw's train of thought.  
  
she blinked a few times before focusing her gaze on root's eyes.  
  
shaw bit her lip as root forced shaw's hand tighter around her throat.  
  
"until you pass out?" shaw asked, making sure to clarify.  
  
"hmm, until i tap out or cum. whichever comes first." root says, smirk firmly in place.  
  
shaw kisses her quickly, pulling away before root can bite at her lower lip and distract her, and loses herself in root's body.  
  
shaw doesn't understand how root can't love her body, but when they're together like this, she tries to tell her without words. she scrapes her teeth against root's delicate collarbone, runs her fingers through the endless silky waves of root's hair, and relishes in the way root's powerful hands grip and tug at her hair. shaw squeezes gently at her throat, taking in the flush spreading across her pale chest and the steady thud of her pulse.  
  
maybe this is root meant when she waxed on about symphonies.  
  
"more, sameen."  
  
who is shaw to deny root what she needs. she squeezes and pumps her hand in a forceful rhythm, just how root likes it when her cheeks are bright pink and her eyes are twin sparks, burningburningburning and lighting the room on fire. shaw pants a little, and even with her position of power, has never felt more unhinged. how could she ever call the shots if one look from root has her on her knees.  
  
she feels root beginning to clench around her fingers, and makes sure to increase the pressure, makes sure to never lose root's eyes. this is the best part. this is better than root's loving hand tracing across her scars, better than a good steak after a long day, better than curling up for a nap with bear.  
  
root hips freeze in place, shaw releases her grip, and root's flying. shaw keeps her hand steady, let's root ride her orgasm out at her own pace. her eyes are goddamn supernovas, and she looks at shaw like she's god.  
  
nothing will ever compare.


End file.
